


Elegy (1/1)

by sevendeadlyfun



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M, Sestina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-28
Updated: 2010-08-28
Packaged: 2017-10-11 07:26:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/109925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevendeadlyfun/pseuds/sevendeadlyfun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>He can remember all their befores...</em>. Angel thinks about his relationship with Spike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elegy (1/1)

  
  
  
  
  


**Entry tags:**

| 

  
[ficlet](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/tag/ficlet), [gift!fic](http://sevendeadlyfun.livejournal.com/tag/gift%21fic)  
  
  
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Pairing: Spike/Angel

Rating: R

Summary: _He can remember all their befores..._. Angel thinks about his relationship with Spike.

A/N: Set in the beginning of AtS S5 and written for a request made by [](http://fajrdrako.livejournal.com/profile)[**fajrdrako**](http://fajrdrako.livejournal.com/) as part of [Fall Fandom Free-For-All](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/367156.html). This is a [sestina](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sestina) masquerading as a ficlet and hopefully, I haven't made a hash of it.

  
It's almost enough to make him ashamed. Spike  
stalks away, his body nearly transparent and touching nothing.  
Angel grimaces because he doesn't want to feel  
ashamed. He should feel vindicated (vindictive? Where does that word come  
from? he wonders).He's managed to make Spike go away.  
But the victory is hollow, and these days all too easy.

He can remember all their befores, when an easy  
kill and a sweet fuck were ways to keep the peace with Spike.  
Now he struggles not to snap and snarl, desperate to find a way  
to keep it together. At the end of the day, he often says nothing  
because nothing is easier. He doesn't have any civil words come  
nightfall and sometimes, he enjoys how uncivil he feels.

That's Angelus, pushing him towards thinking, feeling,  
being a monster. When he's around Spike, being a monster is easy.  
Simple, simpler than civility and affection because those never come  
easy to a monster. He spends a lot of time fighting the monster. Fighting Spike.  
Fighting Spike is simple, simpler than admitting he's a monster, a thing.  
A thing wouldn't know how to love (no matter that Spike always found a way).

And Angel does know how to love. That's what he tells himself, a way  
of whistling past the graveyard of fear he lives in. He feels  
things deeply is all. Much deeper than Spike, the shallow bastard; there's nothing  
to him but sound and fury. All that passion, wasted on that little prick. He has it easy.  
A few days of crazy and he's off saving the world. What the fuck does Spike  
know about love? It's all the same to him, loving and hurting and coming

back for more. Battered and bruised, and he looked beautiful dappled in come  
and bruises and bright red hand prints, his curls pushed up away  
from his face…Angel quickly gets lost in his memories, fingers tracing Spike's  
non-existent body. Firm flesh yields sweetly under his fangs and Angel can almost feel  
the thick hot blood pour down his throat, flavored with sex and sin. They flow easily,  
memories and blood. It's hard to feel alone with memories like his, even with nothing

else to keep him warm. He shakes his head, pushing the thought away. Nothing  
matters but the mission. He shouldn't even be thinking about Spike. Come  
tomorrow, he'll have tucked the memories away. No more regrets. Sure, it's easier  
to live in the past. No surprises in his memories, no challenges. That's the way  
the past works, sweet and simple. Simpler than the present with its complicated feelings  
and fears, the ones that keep him in his office late at night worried about Spike.

He shakes his head. It's coming up on sunrise and still no Spike.  
Nothing he can do. Spike's a big…ghost now. So what if they push each other away?  
No matter how he feels in his memories, they live in the now. In the now, hate is easy.

_   
**Elegy (1/1)**   
_


End file.
